


resembool's fireside

by muguetmuse



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Mama Hawk/Big Sis Riza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muguetmuse/pseuds/muguetmuse
Summary: A family friend to the Elric family, when their mother dies, Riza is caught between moving to Central like she’d planned with Roy, her rock for years, or to stay in Resembool where a book store and two golden-haired boys who have become her home. AU. Royai Week 2019 for Day 5: Unfinished business.





	resembool's fireside

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for being late for day 5! I just adore found family feelings and all I want is for them to be happy, so don’t worry it’s not too heartbreaking! Honestly, this is just one big fat self-indulgence. This may have a second part outside of royai week because I want to have fun with this setup. Also: Mentions of a canonical death, but other than that and the canonical physical setting, there's no alchemy in this world. Anyway, happy reading!

The love of the Elric parents can be summarized in the order Riza finishes signing off for  _Patricia’s Book Shop_ in bronze lettering against a blue, glossy wood finish. When she was in middle school, Trisha explained her book shop as the home for the love in her family. She met Hohenheim, the Amestrian government’s top researcher as bibliophiles. Their love story lasted until her death, through letters and many phone calls and books they would send to each other, even if Hohenheim would rarely ever visit, it was enough for them.

Trisha’s sons, Edward and Alphonse, wide-eyed, bright, brilliant children Riza would babysit from time to time, would also connect to their father by reading the books he liked to read in the store.

Once she finishes the small loop to close off the cursive of her last name, she returns the clipboard to the pale man, sullen cheeks and thinning mustache breathing her thanks. He wheels it in and exits soundlessly.

Even if Hohenheim planned to sell this piece of their heart, for the time this place has left, she’ll make it known this place was Trisha’s.

It’s only fitting, she thinks, she honors death with a new life to the store Trisha cared for many years. The old one, rotting wood and rubbed-out letters, sits on its side, tucked in between the wall shelves and the last free-standing ones. This new sign, laid across the counter and nearly glittering up at her, begs to be showcased to the world.

Just as she enters her final years of university, moves out of her father’s hollowed house, and Resembool loses Trisha Elric and the Rockbell couple in the same year.

Today is Trisha Elric’s funeral. Compared to the funeral service attended by Roy and Riza alone the day Berthold Hawkeye died, she understands loss, now, in real time. It’s funny how she can feel the absence of her father when he’s alive and feel none of it when he dies, and how she would feel whole spending her days in Trisha Elric’s bookstore and feel the loss of her life now. Now she understands grief, and she wishes she didn’t have the first-hand experience to back it up.

The boys didn’t need it, either.

Today is Trisha Elric’s funeral. It is also the day Riza leaves behind her final token of appreciation for this place and leaves Elrics and Winry, kids she practically watched grow up.

Riza opens the drawer, her fingers dancing over the envelope with soft flutters until she gives into picking it up. But she stares at the envelope, the contents of the letter folded there hidden.

Because she’s memorized Roy’s hasty script by heart, each curve of the word meaning something bigger for the two of them.

_Your father told me to take care of you. But I’m not doing it for him._

Her fingers dip into the envelope anyway, a long ticket appearing between her ring and middle finger.

_Come to Central with me._

A stamped, dated, timed ticket to leave it all behind. It isn’t like she’s never going to visit Resembool, she rationalized but averted her gaze from looking out at the rolling verdant land; otherwise, she might just prefer to live here despite Roy being in Central.

This day was planned for a while now, and she couldn’t feel unluckier that it was today. She should be happier that she gets to see Roy apart from the barriers of distance or her father’s watchful gaze.

“Miss Hawkeye,” a young girl throws open the door to the storefront, her blonde hair unruly and her mouth fighting for oxygen. Dirt decorates the hem of her black dress in splatters, seemingly preserved in the rayon fabric.

Riza puts her hands on her hips and starts to gesture at her messy attire, thinking about the scrubbing Pinako would have to go through to get the stain out. “Winry, the service should be starting. What–“

“Ed and Al don’t want you to go!” Winry shouts, and for an eleven-year-old, her lungs are powerful, and her intense blue eyes assert that Riza give her undivided attention. “I have no idea where they’ve gone. They’re not at the service, and everyone’s waiting for them. They need you.”

Riza tries to get in another sentence, another plea that they’ve all gone over this the evening Riza received her scholarship money at Central University and Roy’s letter. They already shed their tears and came to terms that Riza had to move on with her upperclassmen years at University if she ever wanted to get anywhere. She even had Trisha’s approval when she was alive.

But Winry doesn’t want to hear any of it.

“If this _Mustang_ really loves you like I think he does,” Winry shakes her head as if the motion could hide away how tears well up in her eyes and replace it with brittle strength instead, “then he’ll understand we’re your family, too.”

At first, Riza nearly blushes at Winry’s bluntness–hearing it out loud is strange, because what else would anyone call their relationship?

But the second part halts Riza’s warping thoughts.

 _We’re your family, too_.

She can’t get it out of her head. It rings, echoes, resonates within her like the music Roy plays on the piano in her mother’s old parlor, where a tune becomes unforgettable. Except instead of warm memories of Roy she cherishes, she has Trisha Elric’s knitted goods and the books she would lend to Riza for free, Ed’s slow-to-warm-up affection spelled out in between angry fits or telling favors he’d do by rushing to help Riza carry her bags, Al’s sweet disposition and offers to help wash the dishes, Winry’s brownnosing compliments and funny gadgets she builds to help her grandmother, Trisha, and Riza around the apartment just upstairs.

Compared to the house she shared with her father before he died, Resembool became her home.

Riza rushes to Winry’s side, just as she buries her face into Riza’s dark skirt. She’s rubbing circles on Winry’s back as her body wracks with broken sobs– Winry’s lost too many paternal figures in the past year. The longer Riza crouches there, wiping Winry’s face,

“Well, only if you call me ‘Riza’ from now on,” she says lightly, and it’s enough for Winry–her fists tighten and she looks at Riza, big blue eyes wide, watery, but happy.

The storefront bursts open again, Edward and Alphonse panting, their dark slacks dusty beyond belief.

“Winry!” Edward exclaims, running to her side with Alphonse. As Edward hugs Winry, Winry starts jumping up and down, repeating Riza’s answer as Riza kneels before the children she practically helped raise. Alphonse gazes at her, baffled as he fumbles for words, those dark, big, gold eyes wavering as he touches her arm. “Miss Hawkeye…. You’re here? Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”

“He’ll understand,” Riza waves it away. It’ll be a very long phone call, a hard one for her to admit. But she’ll make it work. Roy will understand; they’ve been friends for too long for them not to get through this major change. “Besides, you guys are still here.”

Edward snaps his attention to Riza and then looks beyond her. “You’re going to stay?” He says it like he can’t believe it, his voice echoing pent-up hesitation. Edward scans the bookstore. “I thought Dad was going to sell it when he comes back from Central. That’s a new sign.” He points to the counter behind them, an implicit question underscoring his words.

And the answer comes to her so easily, “Because this place is ours now.”

“Mom would have liked that,” is all Edward says as he rubs his eyes and sniffles.

* * *

 

When all is quiet in their apartment, Riza lifts the phone. She slowly dials his number, focusing on the family photo of the Elrics on the desk. Hohenheim awkwardly poses with Ed in his hands, showing off his son to the camera while Al clings to Trisha’s blouse like an arboreal baby animal. Her finger traces the frame of the photograph sitting beside it: the Elric brothers, Winry, Pinako, and Trisha in the park, the hills and trees of Resembool behind them, their picnic blanket visible in the background. The fireside burns a heat capable of warming the room enough for Riza to forget the chilly evening drafts and the coolness of the phone wrapped around her fingers–or is she sweating now?

And then she hears his voice, “Aw. The thought of living in the same town as I was too much too soon, wasn’t it?”

“How did you–“

“The angry one called me, rubbing it in my face. For someone really tiny, he sure has a big mouth.”

She drops her gaze away from the metal frame, but can’t stop herself from the instinctive smile as she leans back in the chair. “You know Edward’s name, Roy.”

“Just in case he’s listening, you know?” He laughs lightly before he lets his next words stir during a lengthy pause. “I know I already called to tell you and the boys this morning, but my condolences about Trisha Elric. How are you?”

A sting appears in her chest at the memory of Trisha offering a place for Riza to go after school. Now that Trisha is gone, survived by her family, Riza inhales sharply as she recalls how hard the boys bawled quietly after the service was over and everyone had to go home:

_"I don't even know how to do the laundry like Mom. Or cook her stew or go to school without her bye-bye kiss.” Al buries his head against Riza’s shoulder as they sit in front of Trisha Elric’s headstone. Ed still sits further away. I don't know what to do now she's gone."_

_"We live, Al. I didn't think we'd have to do it without Mom,” and for the first time the boys came into her life, Edward scoots closer to Riza and leans into her cosseting embrace as they look onto the headstone, “but we gotta do it since she can’t, y’know? Live."_

They'll get through it.

“The best it can be,” Riza replies as her fingers pick at a loose thread in her skirt. “We’ll live.”

There’s silence.

She continues to tug at the thread and loop it around her finger until she feels a satisfying yank that completely separates it from herself.  Riza breathes out, eyes closed and head tilted down like the thought of her mistakes give her a headache. “I’m sorry. I should have realized my decision sooner instead of wasting an entire ticket like that.”

“Well, it was bought with the intention of you deciding what to do with it.” His intonation elongates the vowel in ‘well’ and ‘was’ as if to highlight exactly how obnoxious he could be in serious situations, in case she forgot that part of him.

“I can’t tell if you’re disappointed or just being a smart aleck. Or being yourself.”

He hums to fill up any silences for her to overthink her worries before plainly responding.

“Why should I be upset if you’re happy?” Riza is thankful he can’t see her flinch. She begins to think about how to make him aware that he’s part of that definition for her as much as the boys and Winry are, but again, she isn’t given much time, Roy already elaborating on his statement, “There’s no room for me to have a say in what you want.”

She shakes her head as her hand rests on the arm pad of her chair. “You must have an opinion.”

“To be honest, no. I should have known better than to compete with those boys. But I wanted to give you the option regardless. I’m sorry the timing worked out this way, I should have taken it back completely." Before she can get a word in, Roy jumps straight into strategy, “I know you can run on two hours of sleep, but the commute can be long. So if you ever need, feel free to crash here some nights and leave early, too.”

She explains how she plans on deferring for a year, to get settled into the routine of completely living in the apartment with the Elrics, to finalize the necessary paperwork, to fully re-open _Patricia’s Book Shop_ to the Resembool public after the chaotic few months following Trisha’s diagnosis. While Riza is used to spending time in the apartment and store, managing it alone is a new realm on its own, and understanding the boys full-time instead of the half-days she’s spent with them babysitting would take a few trials before getting used to their routine. It shouldn’t be hard; she’s looked after them ever since Hohenheim’s absence became frequent due to his job, which was since Ed and Al entered elementary school.

Riza then mentions working out a schedule with Pinako for the evenings she has class in the following years, and Roy, attentively listening to her the entire time, finally interrupts.

“Hey, don’t forget to include me in that discussion, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“For starters, when I visit, I like to think that Ed doesn’t hate me completely, and Al likes me enough. ” He clicks his tongue as another thought probably pops into his head, he liked to do that a lot when he would study at her house. “Oh, but the girl, Winry? I think she just tolerates me, but I can make it work.”

She laughs; Winry in no uncertain terms has been very protective of Riza and her love life whenever someone would flirt with her in public. Roy, while Riza argues doesn’t particularly flirt with her, is no exception to this rule. Winry even once told Riza privately that she didn’t get if Mustang was trying to be a friend or a dummy who can’t spit out what he really feels. Riza agreed with the former but found Winry’s perceptiveness worthwhile (and funny) regardless.

Once she’s had her fill with laughter, there’s a warm flutter that spreads in her chest. Riza squeezes the armrest as she closes her eyes.

“Riza? Are you still there?”

“I think I’m getting tired,” she says but doesn’t feel it. Instead, her head hurts with an overwhelming tangle of emotions and ways of expressing what she really wants to say.

 _I wish you didn’t do things for me so easily._ But if she tells him that, he would emphatically reassure her that she does just as much for him. Cite examples of two years ago, secretly helping him out with his studies with her father or bringing him tea on long nights. He always remembered things like that. Even right now, he’s remembering–wrong, _knows_ implicitly–her love for the people of Resembool, the ones she went to whenever her father would forget her. _Or is it a debt to her father as his mentor?_

She shakes that thought away. The last thing she cares for is to involve more of the departed into her waking life choices.

 _There’s no need to worry about me._ Too late; he offered help already.

 _I miss you._ She means this one a lot. Ever since he returned to Central for university, they’ve kept in touch, but his classes have held him back from even stopping by on the weekends.

So all Riza says is, “Visit soon.” Close enough.

He hums an affirmative reply just as she promises to include him in her future plans. She ends the call with a wish for him to study hard for his classes and a quiet good night. Teasingly, Roy says he must’ve bored her to death with protracting logistics before bidding her sweet dreams.

Putting the receiver back into the phone cradle, Riza can’t help but smile softly. Winry may be right after all.


End file.
